Colonel Quaritch, V.C. eBook

“Father, what is the use of trying to shirk
the thing just because it is disagreeable?”
she asked earnestly. “Do you suppose that
it is more pleasant to me to talk about it than it
is for you? I know that you are not to blame
about it. I know that dear James was very thoughtless
and extravagant, and that the times are crushing.
But to go on like this is only to go to ruin.
It would be better for us to live in a cottage on
a couple of hundred a year than to try to keep our
heads above water here, which we cannot do. Sooner
or later these people, Quest, or whoever they are,
will want their money back, and then, if they cannot
have it, they will sell the place over our heads.
I believe that man Quest wants to get it himself—­that
is what I believe —­and set up as a country
gentleman. Father, I know it is a dreadful thing
to say, but we ought to leave Honham.”

“Leave Honham!” said the old gentleman,
jumping up in his agitation; “what nonsense
you talk, Ida. How can I leave Honham? It
would kill me at my age. How can I do it?
And, besides, who is to look after the farms and all
the business? No, no, we must hang on and trust
to Providence. Things may come round, something
may happen, one can never tell in this world.”

“If we do not leave Honham, then Honham will
leave us,” answered his daughter, with conviction.
“I do not believe in chances. Chances always
go the wrong way—­against those who are looking
for them. We shall be absolutely ruined, that
is all.”

“Well, perhaps you are right, perhaps you are
right, my dear,” said the old Squire wearily.
“I only hope that my time may come first.
I have lived here all my life, seventy years and more,
and I know that I could not live anywhere else.
But God’s will be done. And now, my dear,
go to bed.”

She leant down and kissed him, and as she did so saw
that his eyes were filled with tears. Not trusting
herself to speak, for she felt for him too deeply
to do so, she turned away and went, leaving the old
man sitting there with his grey head bowed upon his
breast.

CHAPTER VI

Lawyerquest

The day following that of the conversation just described
was one of those glorious autumn mornings which sometimes
come as a faint compensation for the utter vileness
and bitter disappointment of the season that in this
country we dignify by the name of summer. Notwithstanding
his vigils and melancholy of the night before, the
Squire was up early, and Ida, who between one thing
and another had not had the best of nights, heard
his loud cheery voice shouting about the place for
“George.”

Looking out of her bedroom window, she soon perceived
that functionary himself, a long, lean, powerful-looking
man with a melancholy face and a twinkle in his little
grey eyes, hanging about the front steps. Presently
her father emerged in a brilliant but ancient dressing
gown, his white locks waving on the breeze.